The Stars
by KShade
Summary: "and it's the stars, the stars that shine for you" (Through Glass by Stone Sour) Its a couple years after Spike-William at the time-was sired. To teach him some respect Angelus decides to tell him what he did, in the way of telling him what he did to Dru. "And the stars, they shine, yours and mine" an ongoing series of sweet moments between Spike and Drusilla.
1. Chapter 1

**This came out of nowhere. I was in my Buffy RP, and william_thebloody and Drusilla_theseer were roleplaying, and something Spike said made me think "hey, that should be a oneshot!" Also, I'm doing NaNoWriMo, so you may not see much of me during November. Set a few years after Spike became a vampire.**

**_Warnings: Violence, implied rape that I really tried to keep implied only, torture, this is starting to sound like a list of Angelus's favourite pastimes._  
**

**I own nothing but my insanity and some pocket lint.**

As the three vampires left the site of their latest kill, Drusilla commenting on the stars, and Angelus gritting his teeth, William smiled. He loved these times. Darla was busy playing with one of her pet-humans, so it was only the three of them. William would have preferred if Angelus hadn't come, but he could deal with that much.

"And the stars do not shine for Angelus," Drusilla whispered, "they are as black as his soul!" she added, stroking his arm, offsetting the almost cruel sounding words. "But all the stars shine for my William," she added, "William glows, he's so… the pixies took my word away. Naughty little creatures," she appeared to be thinking, trying to reclaim the word she had thought of.

William knew he had a favourite word that she might like, "effulgent, perhaps?" he suggested. It had popped up fairly often in his poetry, and he found it so much more interesting than its synonyms, luminous, radiant. Effulgent just seemed less overused, less clichéd.

Drusilla clapped excitedly, "William stole the word back from the pixies!" she cheered. Angelus rolled his eyes, a growl forming in the back of his throat. Angelus didn't like how, ever since Drusilla made her little vampire, they'd both become a lot more rebellious. He was losing his authority, and he didn't like that. He might just have to torture one of them, see if he could get a little respect. It seemed like a fun way to spend the day, when they couldn't go outside.

"Go hunt, Princess, Daddy and Willy will wait here for you," Angelus gave William a look that Drusilla missed, already skipping off. There was a woman walking alone in the dark streets. Some people, it seemed, had no self-preservation instinct. Not liking that Angelus had insisted on him staying put, William followed him anxiously into an alley just across the street, where they could watch Drusilla.

He stood back, watching Drusilla hunting for her next meal. He was already sated from the sleeping men he and Angelus had stumbled upon, so he was taking it as an opportunity to watch his sire in action. She was beautiful, he realized. There was poetry inherent in the way she moved, her long hair and dress flowing out behind her in an almost ethereal way. The only thing ruining the perfect scene was the predatory glint in Angelus's eyes.

Angelus smirked, watching as a few stray drops of blood soaked the top of Dru's white dress. William didn't like the way Angelus's eyes fixated on Dru, and wondered absently why Angelus was always doing that. _What did he do? _William wished he knew a lot of these things, wished he could understand his sire. She was probably an enigma to all of them though. He wouldn't be shocked if she was already the beautiful but broken person she was now when Angelus sired her.

His luck had it that his grand-sire was going to let him in on a few secrets. Angelus was sick of the near-fledgling William's impertinence. As he'd already considered, he could torture him, but that might not even get to the annoying little vampire. No, Angelus was going to have to play this game on an emotional level, see if William didn't respect him a little more when he did. "Ever wonder about your sire, William?" Angelus asked evenly, not giving away how much this was going to hurt William. This really was _too easy._

William was shocked at how Angelus seemed to have read his mind. "Who was she before you sired her?" William asked; wanting know everything he could know about the woman he loved. She knew everything about him, even how, on occasion, he would still write poetry. She knew about how attached he'd been to his mother, and she'd gotten him through the time he had to kill her. He wanted to be able to help her through whatever he saw her fighting when she slept.

"When I met Drusilla, she was pure," Angelus smirked, "she was this sweet little catholic girl, not really much to her. So I made her my masterpiece. I killed her family, had my fun with it, too. Painted the walls with blood, made it good and slow. I forced her to watch. I made her tell her sister she was going to be okay as I slowly broke her. I made her hold that girl's hand until that's all that was left of her sister, and then I left her there.

"She had more strength than I thought though, went to a convent. She didn't realize I had a thing for nuns. They're so fun to toy with, because they practically let you. Again, I killed them, taking my time, forcing her to watch. She was crying by the end of it, when finally, I turned on her. The day she took her holy orders, I desecrated her every way I could think of, waited until she begged to die. So I let her. She just didn't stay that way." Angelus seemed proud of himself. William felt sick.

William killed people, and he enjoyed it, yeah, he was a vampire. Angelus, being proud of all his sick deeds was a monster. William felt sick, hearing the words echoing in his head. He loved Drusilla, (albeit too much for a vampire). He was under the impression that you weren't supposed to do that once you lost your soul. But he loved her, broken as she was. William had always assumed Drusilla was an enigma to all of them, that they had found her as she was. Now, he realised, Angelus, probably even Darla knew all too much about her. William hated it. He hated that Angelus thought of breaking someone as an art form. He hated that his Drusilla had been a victim to it.

She didn't seem victimised when she skipped up to the curb they had been talking on, and smiled at William, "are you proud of Princess?" she asked. He seemingly nonsensical talk had a darker meaning to Spike as her took her in, her white dress stained red. She was beautiful, she always had been, but she'd never seemed so strong. She tilted her head, looking at Angel pleadingly, "is Daddy proud of princess?" William wondered how she could be so loyal to someone who'd caused her so much pain.

He admired her for being able to be so loyal, even though Angelus didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve Drusilla at all, in fact. William wondered yet again why the dark goddess had chosen him, a dejected poet. He was even beneath Cecily sodding Addams at the time. That's when the poet side of him reared its ugly head wondering if maybe she was looking for someone to love her_._ William looked from the smirking Angelus to the pouting Drusilla, and spoke, "I'll always be proud of you, love," he said softly.

Drusilla smiled at him, clutching his hand and giggling almost child-like, "the stars shine for you, William," she said seriously, her eyes meeting his with a look so… honest. She was telling him that the stars she saw as there to guide her shone on him. In Drusilla's mind, William was sure that was a declaration of love. He didn't know why she would love him, but he knew he would treat her well. William could at least return that love to his broken savior.

Angelus sighed, "and if you two don't hurry up, the sun will shine for you," he remarked, starting to pick up the pace. William silently urged Drusilla along, not a doubt in his mind that Angelus would do it. If he could do all the things he'd told William about and be proud of it, he could leave them to die. Drusilla seemed blissfully unaware as she skipped along.

Once they arrived in the abandoned house they'd made their own, Angelus went to go find Darla, following the screams that were coming from the basement. Drusilla just walked up to the room, William following her. She lay down, curling up in the bed. William followed her, lying behind her. While Drusilla fell asleep quickly, barely stirring in his arms, sleep eluded William. When he finally did sleep, all he could see was the stuff of nightmares, a whimpering Drusilla holding onto the bloody hand of her sister, the rest of the other girl strewn around the room.

Worse yet was the way Drusilla looked at him, begging him to help her. William had tried, but it was like he was stuck behind a thick pane of glass, able to watch in shocked horror, but not intervene. It pained him greatly, watching Angelus destroying her with calculated efficiency. Sure enough, the day Drusilla joined the nuns, took her holy orders, a demon came into their midst. Angelus was brutal ad creative in his ways of killing all of the nuns around Drusilla, but the worst of it was how he dragged her with him, forcing her to keep her eyes open.

Tears once again streamed from them, probably helping matters slightly by obscuring her view, that is, until there was only one living person in the room. William closed his eyes, but he could hear her crying out in agony, he could hear her, first praying, then begging the Lord to protect her, and then begging Angelus for mercy. William felt sick, just hearing what he was hearing, screaming, tearing fabric, the cruel words that Angelus said.

Eventually, Drusilla's pleading just became muffled sobbing, and William wanted to go help her, but there was nothing he could do. He pounded at the glass, trying to break it, still not daring to look at whatever atrocity Angelus was committing. Drusilla's sobbing was almost silent, but William heard a resolute tone to her voice as she spoke, "kill me," she begged, her voice teary, strained, a little hoarse from the screaming, "I have nothing left to lose," she added, sounding saddened. Saddened wasn't even the right word for it. She sounded like someone who'd just lost everything.

Angelus laughed darkly, "whatever you want, lover," he responded. Spike opened his eyes to see Drusilla, covered in blood, lying in the wreckage of her habit, near what was left of the rest of the convent. Angelus was drinking her, his fangs lodged in her neck. Her teary eyes connected with William's as the light faded from them.

William waited with her body in his dream, long after Angelus left, knowing that she would seek him out when she awakened. When Drusilla did finally come to, she walked to the glass and flicked it aside, watching as it hit the floor and broke. "And all the little pieces falling shatter," she said quietly, grabbing onto William with her bloody hands. He just held his sire, finally understanding why she chose him. At her strongest or her weakest, he still loved her, he still needed her.

He woke up with a start, the sleeping Dru still in his arms, "my William," she whispered, burying her head into his chest. That night, William wrote. He found a journal to write in in the desk, and an old fountain pen. He stayed beside Drusilla while he wrote, now more than ever realizing that she needed him to stay. She trusted him, she loved him and he felt the same.

That day, he nearly filled the book with poetry; it was very different from his old poems though. He didn't glorify Drusilla or himself or any other person or theme, he wrote as he saw things, perfectly flawed. Some poems were about finding solace, or the stars that shone for them. Most of them were about Drusilla. She just slept, sometimes speaking, sometimes moving, but William had never felt so close to her. Until today, she'd been an enigma to him, but now he understood her.

He understood her, and despite that she was broken—they both were, he loved her all the same. Finally, writing the last word of the final poem, he placed the book at the side of the bed and slept for real this time.

Drusilla awoke long before Spike did, seeing the ink smudged on his hands and the book lying beside the bed. She smiled. She'd heard what Daddy had told William, and she'd wanted William to understand. The pixies had done the rest for her. Despite stealing their word, they liked William. And the stars shone exquisitely over him. She picked up the book, opening it to where the little ribbon bookmark was. That was the last poem, one titled "Stars". She smiled as she read it,

"_And all the little pieces falling shatter  
never to be assembled together,  
wrong never made right  
Save by the stars and cover of night._

_Something to fill the void  
of one so destroyed  
I'll hold your pieces, my love, my sire  
Fill the holes that we can be entire_

_As the stars, they shine  
on your strength divine  
and the stars they shine,  
yours and mine."_

Drusilla watched her William sleeping, seeing the glowing stars sparking around him. Her William was effulgent, and he understood her.


	2. Chapter 2

**So, I'm trying something new right here… I'm deliberately writing parts of this vaguely, because I'm trying to focus on the love they know, not the graphic details. If you tell me whether it worked, I will be eternally grateful.**

He remembered how the room was lit by candles. Drusilla had covered every surface she could in small, round ones that cast a small light on the room. William knew there was something she was planning when she spent the day telling Angelus and Darla about the stars. Those two had left her with William, saying that they had things they had to do. Perhaps she'd wanted the alone time, he speculated.

William didn't mind staying with her either, he loved her, and he knew she knew that he still wrote from time to time. He considered writing a bit while he had this chance, but something seemed planned about this. Drusilla's stars may have been trying to give them an evening together. Either way, he loved her talk of pixies and stars, the metaphoric meanings to everything she said. He was a poet, whether he wanted others to know or not, so he understood what she was saying. It was just a complicated, beautiful, often confusing way of speaking. It captivated him, just as the candlelight playing off her face, the rest of her hidden under a blanket.

He crossed the room, lying above the blanket and embracing her. He was relatively certain of what she wanted, but he didn't know what to do, not in the slightest. "I-if I may?" he asked softly, leaning in a little. He'd never kissed a woman this way. Not romantically, not even a woman who wasn't his mother. He wasn't sure of what he was supposed to do at all; all he knew was that he wanted to try this. She smiled, letting her lips brush tentatively against his. It was like magic, there was something magical that happened when her lips touched his. A shock of something that just felt so _good. _Now he was fairly sure he was doing it right.

She pulled away and looked at him, a spark of something in her eyes. A spark of something he hadn't seen before. She leaned in again, this time, kissing him deeper, harder. He hadn't known anything could feel this good. He let his arms encircle her, pulling her closer. His mind was awash in sensations so foreign, but at the same time, so right. This was so perfect, having her in his arms, kissing her like he's never kissed anyone else. He was sure that she'd done this before, how else would she be so perfect at it.

The next time she pulled away, he blushed at his reaction. He hoped she didn't notice. He really was going to mess this up. Not quite sure what to do, he was about to go, when Dru looked down and smirked, "do you love me, William?" she asked, her eyes darker than normal. William hoped that meant what he thought it did.

He looked her in the eyes and told her, "I love you, Drusilla." He'd said it before, many times. He wondered if it was significant. He was sure, in life, she'd been loved. Could he hold a candle to that? He didn't even have a soul. He would prove that that didn't matter. It didn't change the way he felt. He kissed her again, trying to mimic what she'd done last time. He knew exactly what he wanted, but not what to do or how to do any of it. Drusilla pulled away, "do you want me?" she asked sweetly, reaching behind herself.

William could barely form the words, "I- ah, yes," he said shyly. She smirked, carefully untying the little ribbon that held her dress on. He didn't know, but she had never made love. Yes, Angelus had done things to her, but those didn't count. What Angelus did was violent, but William wasn't like that. William loved her. The stars shone on William, brighter than the candles she lit. Slowly, she slid the dress from her body, tossing it above the blanket.

William's eyes widened while he watched her. He was speechless. He moved his hands to his shirt, tentatively undoing the buttons. That's when he felt her hands working on taking his pants off. He immediately stopped what he was doing, and cried out, feeling her hands on him. He didn't know how anything could feel as good as his love's hands, freeing him from the confines of his pants. She looked up at him impatiently, pulling on his shirt, reminding him of what he was supposed to be doing. He resumed unbuttoning it, not half so hesitantly, getting the buttons out of their respective holes as fast as he could. "Love?" he asked softly, "what do I do?" he blushed again, feeling so clueless.

Drusilla smiled, pulling him closer and kissing him again. William was so innocent, like she used to be. He would love her. She kissed down to the scar she'd left on his neck when she sired him, loving the little breathless sounds he made. She'd made her poet lose his words. She pressed herself against him, loving how their bodies moulded together. There were a lot of things she loved about this night, not the least of them being her first kiss. Before she'd always found it another twisted thing about Angelus, that in all he did to her, he never kissed her. Now, she saw it as his one mercy, leaving her with something she could give to someone she loved, as opposed to having it ripped away.

William arched into her mouth as she kissed his scars, gasping for air. It was extraordinarily human of him to do that, but he completely forgot that he didn't need it. All that went through his head was a surge of sensation, feeling Drusilla's naked body against his, separated only by blankets, the one he hid beneath and the one over her. "D-Drusilla," he moaned softly, trying to stifle the sounds he made, feeling like a fool.

Drusilla smirked, the expression faltering when William wanted to see if the same thing worked for her. Despite that the surge of pleasure was nice at first; it was more than quashed by the influx of memories of how she got the scars. Thinking of that kind of pain made her want something to get her to forget it. Last time she burned herself, and daddy took her dolls away. Desperate to stop the accidental agony, she pulled back, directing William's head to the other side of her neck.

William knew he'd done something wrong in hissing her marks when she'd stiffened, her body going rigid, and a light whimper escaping her clenched lips. On the other side, he was so hesitant, not knowing what caused the fear in his love, not being certain that this would be any better. His lips barely skimmed the side of her neck, and he watched her carefully, trying to see if it was less… less whatever had happened on the other side.

Drusilla could sense his caution. It was so sweet of him to hold back, to make sure she was alright. "Please, William?" she asked, moving her hair to give him more access. She hoped she hadn't scared him. Surely he knew she was broken. Surely Angelus had told him…

William tried softly mimicking what she'd done over his scars. Perhaps it was just that he was not her sire, and he'd done something terribly taboo. She seemed to be okay with this, perhaps even enjoying it, as her hands trailed over his body. He wondered how she was able to do that, just with a light trace of her fingertips on his skin. He was so enthralled, kissing her, still softly, gently, reverently even, not perceiving anything but her touch.

Drusilla held him closer, one hand skating up his back, clutching his head. She needed more. She needed her William, the vampire she'd sired and the poet she'd met him as. She knew that was where this gentleness, this reverence came from. He would always have that sweet William side to him. He would always be a poet. She knew that, from the minute she looked at him, immortality would not take away that sweet side that she needed. After what she'd been through, she needed someone who she could trust.

William took that as a sign of encouragement, the soft sounds he made as he tried desperately to do what she had just done. Why couldn't he at least know a little about what he was doing? He wished he could have even a fraction of the effect on her as she had on him. Maybe she wouldn't mind his love for her, if she knew he could still be of some use. Vampires, to his understanding, weren't supposed to love, but it was killing him trying to be a vampire. He couldn't write his poetry anymore, or go into the sunlight, or love people anymore.

Drusilla took his hand, guiding it across her body, discovering for herself how sweet it was, showing William, kind sweet William what she liked. Not even she knew what this was like. Her only experience was something she tried desperately to forget. All she knew in that moment was how much she loved guiding William's hand along her flesh. His hesitance, his care was what made it perfect for her. She didn't care that they were going to take this slow, they would have to, or she might frighten him. She couldn't have that, so she hoped his stars wouldn't lead her astray. No one, human or vampire could shine like her William.

William watched, transfixed, as she first pulled him under her blanket, and then took his hand and led it with her own. He blushed a little, knowing just how _wrong_ this should be, but it didn't feel wrong. Her soft, pale skin under his hand, seeing in her eyes that she was enjoying it as much as he was. The candle light on her made her look like a goddess, he recognised. This moment, he didn't need the poetry, this was like poetry, the brush of his hand on her skin like words, the best kind of words, arranging themselves into lines and stanzas with more talent than he knew words alone could have. He kissed her softly, loving the way her lips felt on his own.

Drusilla arched into their hands as she found a sensitive spot she hadn't even known she had. This could only be right if she was with William. He loved her. That's what this was, this was him loving her. She didn't break the kiss as she slid his hand a little lower, not quite where she wanted, so she could leave him with an offer. If he wouldn't mind, if that wasn't pushing things too far, she wanted him. She wasn't really sure what to do either, because this was worlds away from the violence she'd experienced. They would just have to find out, she supposed. Maybe, it was best that they could discover this together.

William was startled that she wanted anything further from him. He figured it would annoy her to no end that he was so clueless, so innocent. He didn't mind being guided though, because he learned as she led him. He wanted to know what she enjoyed, where she was sensitive. Maybe next time, he wouldn't need instruction. Slowly, he slid his hand lower, keeping it entwined with hers. If she wanted him, she could have him. He wanted this to be about her though; he wanted to make sure that she enjoyed whatever she showed him how to do. It was a given that just being with her, being this close, this would be one of the best nights of his life.

Drusilla smiled up at him, leading his hand finally where she'd wanted it, letting out a soft cry when she felt his fingertips lightly brushing against her. That was when she discovered how new this was to her. This was worlds away from the night she was sired, her sweet William being so hesitant, but at the same time so sweet. She was so glad she had William, someone who could love her even if she was broken, Even if it was against his nature and hers.

William smiled, seeing how she enjoyed it when she cried out softly. He had no idea what he was doing, but he kept doing it, loving how happy she looked, the candlelight leaving making it look like there's a flicker of joy there in her eyes, or perhaps it's me. I haven't seen her like this before, so happy. She doesn't seem broken, though it could be just a trick of the light. He tried not to get his hopes up.

Drusilla arched into his hand, pressing his fingers down harder. Truthfully, she hadn't thought making love would feel this good. It probably only did if it really was love, like what she had with William. She could feel how much he loved her in his caution, the reverence she could see in his eyes. He treated her like a princess, even though in her other life she'd been called a witch. She kissed him again, passionately, trying to show him what this meant to her.

William could tell it wasn't the light making her eyes spark when she pulled him in for that kiss, when she arched to meet his hand, showing him by guiding him that she wanted more. As they kissed, one of her hands snaked between them, trailing down his abs. He gasped, breaking the kiss and blushing. He was sure she'd been with better men, ones who knew what they were doing, ones who didn't have to hide under the blanket because there would be something inadequate about them. Why she wanted him was beyond him, but he loved her, and he loved seeing her like this, so he wasn't about to question.

Drusilla removed William's hand from her need, wanting more of him. She maneuvered herself so he was almost inside her, having to look under the blanket once to guide herself. She decided she liked how their bodies looked intertwined, the majority of her scars not visible in the dim light under the blanket. What was visible was William's defined body, and that was something she could enjoy looking at "do you promise you love me? Every way?" she asked, hoping desperately that what the stars had told her was true. The stars could be so cruel, but they never lied before.

When she asked, William knew that his next answer would be important. He knew he had to say the right thing, so he took a deep breath, and tried to form coherent words, "Drusilla, I will always love you. You're my sire, my savior, my princess. I'll stay here, with you as long as you want, forever, if you want," and he meant it, despite how young he was, or how helpless and sad it made him feel on the days where she would be so upset and he wouldn't know what to do. He meant it despite Angelus' explanations that he was disgracing them by being such a sodding ponce, particularly the time he hadn't hidden his poetry quite right. He meant it.

She could see it, could hear it from the stars that so loved to whisper. Some insisted he loved her, while others warned her that in a century or so, William would go into the sunlight, and stay until he burned. She didn't want to hear any more, so she tried to shut them out, kissing William again, arching when she felt him inside her, as she slowly slid onto him. The more she felt, the less she could hear the stars, their constant talking. William could make them go away.

William gasped, crying out her name as he felt her on him. Slowly, they found a rhythm, him still trying to stifle all manner of sounds that left his lips. She must think he was so inexperienced. He was making a fool of himself, but he didn't care. He loved her, and this was him finding a new way to express it. Eventually, he was sure he would know what to do. It was now that he realized, no matter who else she could have, he could love her the best. He could love her, even the parts of her that he didn't understand.

When, eventually, the two of them came undone, William held Drusilla as she did, while she wondered if this was her own, personal heaven. Here she was, in the arms of a man who loved her, enjoying a feeling that she hadn't known could exist before. She knew she had to say it, to make him know how much all of this mean t to her. She looked down at him, his golden hair in disarray, his beautiful blue eyes filled with wonder. She looked into them, taking a deep breath, finally finding the words she needed to tell him. "I love you, William."

William smiled, telling her that he loved her too, kissing her passionately. He knew then that this would be a moment he never forgot. A century passed, he killed two slayers and she killed one, he gained a new name, a new persona, but his love for her never changed, not even when, eventually, she left. He could never forget this, even when it hurt to remember her, but it wouldn't hurt for long, because Drusilla, unbeknownst to Spike was going to return to Sunnydale one last time.

**So, this took ridiculous time to write, because of how busy I am, but I'm glad I did. There were so many feels. Feels.**


End file.
